


I Contradict Myself

by HiddenEye



Series: This, my dear, is love [3]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: 70s Timeline, Adam Has a Breakdown and Grows a Beard, Adam being an idiot, And Grows Out His Hair, Bearded Adam, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sparring, it should be a well known tag now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “It didn’t feel right when I was the one giving orders, I’m a more second-in-command kind of person.”Chana stares at him with something akin to annoyance. “And you’re only telling me this now, Agent Sewell?”“I didn’t think it mattered,” Nate shrugs, slotting his fingers together from where he’s seated on the mahogany chair. There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Besides, I was second-in-command. The rules state that if the leader or commander of a team is deceased or, pardon my language, doing fuck-knows what, I’ll be the one taking over.”
Relationships: Adam du Mortain/Nathaniel “Nate” Sewell
Series: This, my dear, is love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770787
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	I Contradict Myself

“Adam.”

He looks away from the swaying trees outside and instead at the exasperated look of Agent Chana, who’s resorted to resting her weight against the surface of the desk with her palms. “Did you listen to what I said?”

Adam lets his gaze flicker to Nate for a second, who has a small frown maring his features as he stares back at him, worry apparent in those lines. Adam snaps his look away, readjusting his position so that he faces the room properly instead of having his focus on the window. “You said I should join back the team, how you’re practically useless without me.”

Mason lets out a small snort around his cigarette. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Adam curls his upper lip in warning, but that only causes Mason to inhale his cigarette deeply from his dark corner, before tilting his head back to release a cloud of smoke.

“That’s one way to put it,” Chana replied back dryly. She sighs, pushing herself off the desk. She presses a hand down her front to get rid of any creases when she continues, “Adam, you’ve been out of commission for almost eleven years, but the work you’ve done on your own has helped the Agency then as much as it did during the decades you’ve been here with us. I am _offering_ you,” She arches her eyebrows at this. “The same position you once held.”

“I thought Nate is in charge now,” Adam questions, folding his arms across his chest. “You can’t just demote him to make space for me.”

“I don’t mind,” Nate replies before Chana can say anything. “It didn’t feel right when I was the one giving orders, I’m a more second-in-command kind of person.”

Chana stares at him with something akin to annoyance. “And you’re only telling me this now, Agent Sewell?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Nate shrugs, slotting his fingers together from where he’s seated on the mahogany chair. There’s a small smile playing on his lips. “Besides, I _was_ second-in-command. The rules state that if the leader or commander of a team is deceased or, pardon my language, doing fuck-knows what, I’ll be the one taking over.”

Mason lets out a bark of choking laughter before quickly covering it up with a cough. Adam holds Nate’s look with gritted teeth, who merely flashes a grin at his burning glare.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Chana orders, running a hand over her hair. Then, she looks over at Adam. “You know your own capabilities as much as the Agency does. And we want you to have further consideration in this position. We’ll rack up your pay, if you want. Better than last time.”

“Just him?” Mason calls out, causing Nate to shoot him a look.

Adam ignores them both. “If I’m coming back, then what would happen to the other vampire?”

“She’ll be exchanged to another unit.”

“And what if I don’t want to work for the Agency again?”

Chana spreads her hands in front of her. “If you want to go back to your mercenary days, scavenging away for the next decade, that’s your choice. But what we offer is so much more. Your work will be easier. You’ll have someone to look after your back. It’d be just like last time.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Adam mutters, leaning against the nearest wall. However, he’d save more money by not staying in motels. He won’t have to scrounge his way through the dirt for more DMB’s, but then the Agency would still have a tight hold on it, most likely forbidding them to use it. It should be fine, if he has a team to back him up. 

A team he’s been looking after for years before that accident. The thought of someone getting hurt under his care again makes him tighten the hold of his arms against his chest. 

He’s been careful. He’s been so careful for each mission they’ve been through, that one slip has made Nate hurt so much, he falls into a coma for two days when he shouldn’t even have to.

The only reason Adam knows about this is because he makes sure Nate wakes up before he goes far. Nate has no clue about that; Adam leaves the Agency before Nate has a chance to convince him that everything is fine, that he shouldn’t worry about anything because it’s not his fault. Nate would say, whatever happened with the Trappers is not his fault, and Adam has to believe that. He has to.

Adam would probably come to know this, but for now, leaving the Agency is the best, that he needs to get away before something else happens.

“What will it be?”

When he looks up, Chana is waiting for his answer behind the desk, back straight. Adam holds back a sigh. “You’ll have my decision in a few hours. Right now, I need to think.”

Chana gives him a wry smile, collecting the papers back into the folder. “Fair enough. We’ll discuss this again at exactly eighteen-hundred hours for your answer. Until then, you’re welcome to use the facility, of course. You know where they are.”

“Of course.” Adam echoes as she leaves the room. And then, Mason stands up, walking across the clearing to follow Agent Chana before he stops near the doorway.

He settles his gaze on Adam. “You’re coming back for real, huh?”

Adam presses his mouth into a straight line, the late morning sun streaming against the side of his face. He doesn’t move away, though, and instead meets Mason’s look head on. “We’ll see.”

Mason only hums, the stick of cigarette still between his lips, before he walks out with a stream of smoke behind him.

The stench of it is left to linger around the room, and Adam is acutely aware of Nate watching him from his place on the chair, the silence as heavy as the smell of smoke hanging above their heads. Adam knows Nate is waiting for him to make the first move, waiting for him to say something in regards to their position.

Adam pushes himself off the wall, almost refuses to look at his friend as he makes his way out.

Nate doesn’t stop him.

* * *

The training room brings some comfort when Adam pushes the doors open, almost slamming them into the walls as he strides in with shoulders strung tight. He’s restless, the quiet buzz is dancing on top of his skin, and he wants to tear it off with bare hands. It’s distracting. Maddening, even — it envelops his senses with a manic blanket that he has to do something, to _move_. 

He shucks off his shirt and throws it at a nearby bench. He yanks the cabinet that keeps the first aid and reaches for the tape, the loud pull he does echoes throughout the room as he wraps it around his fists. He makes sure it’s tight and secure, throwing back the rest into its designated place before he makes his way towards the wooden dummy.

It sits there without a face, without a soul, but when Adam stands before it with his arms tucked near his sides, the dummy looks like it’s mocking him in its naked state.

It’s ridiculous, because the damn thing is insentient and it’s just sitting there and doing absolutely nothing. The purpose of the humanoid block of wood is to make sure they could beat the shit out of it, and many agents have used the blasted thing as part of their workout regime.

But the longer Adam stares at it, the louder the thumping of a thousand little feet crawl up his neck.

The first strike of his fist has the loud _crack_ of the dummy slashing across his conscience, but that doesn’t stop him; the precision of his hits lands true to where he wants it to be, and he doesn’t stop.

He hits it again, and again.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but it’s long enough for his hair to cling to his neck and temples, for the sun streaks to move across the floor as the afternoon comes and goes. Adam breathes as if he hasn’t been spending his energy on a single thing for the past couple of hours, and that’s good, because it means he has his attention solely on the dummy and that’s all he wants.

When Adam stops, it’s hearing the hum of the room ringing in his ears and how he’s conscious of his own breaths. It’s steady, not desperate for oxygen. But, his heartbeat is hammering against his chest when he feels eyes searing on the thin skin of his nape.

He might as well announce to the world how his treacherous heart is blaring out beats after beats of heavy thunder; he knows who’s watching him. He knows, and it excites him.

It’s rearranging his back until he’s straightened his posture, shoulders rolling off the blatant stare as it follows his very move. “How long are you going to just stand there?”

“As long as I want,” It shouldn’t make Adam reign in so much self composure at the low tone of the reply. “The view’s not so bad from here. I might stay for a little longer.”

He can’t help himself; when Adam peeks over his shoulder, Nate is leaning against the doorframe with his hands inside his jacket pockets, one foot crossed against the other. 

And there’s something dark swirling in that look, and it catches Adam at where he is that he’s pinned under that kind of grip — it’s forbidden, really, to be looked at with such intensity. Adam doesn’t know why Nate even does it, and why it affects him so much that Adam finds himself _wanting_ to be looked like that.

He shouldn’t indulge himself. Nothing good comes out of such meddling affairs.

Adam cocks an eyebrow at him, turning around to face the man fully. “And do nothing?”

“Sometimes, doing nothing is as good as doing something.” Nate tilts his head, one corner of his mouth hooked up. “Though, in this case, I’m more than tempted in doing _something_ the longer I watch you beat that up.”

Adam looks away, batting down the flush that threatens to take over. “Care to join me?”

“I’m sure there are other useful things to do than hitting a dummy.”

Adam rolls his eyes at the tease, swiping his hair away from his face. “Sparring, Nate. How about it?”

“And let myself lose to you again?” Nate snorts. “Please. You think I’m that stupid?”

“I’m not saying you are,” Adam replies, rewrapping the tape around his knuckles. “It’s been a while since the last time we did. What are the chances of you being better than I am now?”

“That’s very sweet, but I know what a backhanded compliment sounds like when I hear one,” Nate scoffs, and Adam swallows down a smile. “Are you trying to fish out poetry from me? Sing out how you can beat my ass to the ground?”

“If that makes you happy.”

“I’m all for telling you how extraordinary you are, Adam, but there’s no need to force it out of me,” Nate chastises as he takes out his hands from his pockets, pushing himself off the doorframe. A slow smile takes over his face. “Maybe, I’ll tell you how pretty you are with that long hair of yours. How’s that sound?”

Adam remains rooted to where he is as he watches the way Nate prowls his way forward, taking off layers of clothing one by one and chucking it beside his abandoned T-shirt. Adam is shameless in this, not looking away when Nate peels off his undershirt until he’s as topless as Adam is, the toned lines of his body beautiful under the sun streaks coming in from the high windows.

When those warm eyes meet his, those long hands gathering his curls into the rubber band he has around his wrist, Adam realises he wants Nate to touch him. 

The thrill of it sparks down the length of his spine and Adam shakes the thought away. Nate is already waiting for him in the middle of the clearing, arms dropping to his sides. “Don’t suppose you’d go easy, this time?”

And like several hours ago, Nate waits for him to make the first move. 

“That would be very uncharacteristic.”

Nate sighs, rolling his neck. “I tried.”

And just like before, Adam strikes first, fist raising beside his face as he aims for Nate.

His hit is dodged easily as Nate falls into the defensive, and Adam feels how the blood in his veins thrum alive when he watches the way Nate narrows his eyes at his clenched hand, before snapping his look at Adam himself with something alight in that gaze.

Familiarity weighs arounds them the longer they stay on the mat; while they’ve gone through the steps before, the dance that comes with the fight sails easily between their bodies and in the whistle of their hits. It’s also having to re-affiliate themselves with the way the other is forced to retaliate to the firm statements of their attacks; this is how you used to hit me. This is how you’d react. This is how I wanted you to touch me even if it’ll leave a bruise later, but by god, I don’t mind. I don’t mind.

Adam is starting to breathe heavily, sweat flying when he lands a roundhouse at Nate. But he is able to avoid it with an arm bracing against his foot, and the vibration of the impact travels up the length of Adam’s leg that Nate would surely feel it too.

Nate winces, but quickly grabs his ankle and yanks him forward that Adam inevitably falls into his space. Immediately, Nate tightly wraps his arms around Adam to trap his own arms to his body, restricting movement when he tugs him to his chest. Adam tries to wiggle away, doing all he can to break free, but Nate isn’t giving him a chance when he squeezes even tighter until Adam gruffs out at the creak he feels in his ribs. He snaps his head up to glare at him, panting.

Nate breaths out a chuckle, just as exerted as he is. “Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re the one who pulled me into this,” Adam grumbles, trying to move still, but Nate only holds him harder until they’re chest to chest.

This revelation makes Adam freeze from where he is, and Nate takes the chance to look at him properly then. “You’re like a fish that needs to be held down, so yes, this is my best idea in making sure you don’t beat me up again.”

A strand of brown hair falls from his makeshift bun, and Adam finds himself unable to look away when it sways under what little movement they make. And then, an idea makes itself known to him.

Adam knows how he carries himself, knows how Nate enjoys the way Adam fumbles over himself whenever their banter turns into something a little more unbearable that leaves him at Nate’s mercy. But now, when his new look has made Nate stare at him unabashedly, Adam knows what he has to do.

He tries to convince himself that this is a tactic to win their sparring match and have him hold the title of winner in their books, but he can’t ignore how his heart jumps to his throat the more he thinks about it.

Adam looks at him, and Nate has trailed into silence when he realises that Adam hasn’t been saying anything for the second that passes, simply staring back. The air is dipped into something thicker — it’s in the way it makes him aware of the arms holding him tight, the firm hold burning down to his bones, and it drags down with his sweat that Adam thinks he might forfeit sooner than he thinks.

But, he has to win. This reminder makes him twist his lips to one side, and the gesture pulls Nate with his gaze. “You’re right.”

Nate blinks. “What?”

“You caught me,” Adam is able to give a small shrug despite being bonded with strong arms. “What are you going to do now?”

“Have you admit you lost to me, obviously,” Nate says, but there’s suspicion brewing in that look, and Adam has to make it as convincing as possible.

He relaxes his body, making it seem as if Nate has him crushed against his body instead of Adam resisting against his hold. He’s hoping that it would trick Nate into thinking he really did give up. “I just did.”

“Oh no, I need to hear it clearly, since it’s not everyday you would.”

Adam tilts his head back, exposing the length of his neck. It’s the very act of defeat, showing submission so readily when he’s being asked to. He doesn’t look away from those eyes, has it caught in his net. “You win, Nate.”

Something dark takes hold of his gaze, and Adam tries not to shiver when Nate stares down at him with an interest that beats down to the centre of his very core. The arms around him shift until warm palms press more into the slope of his back, and Adam can feel every digit burning into his flesh that he almost presses into them more.

Almost.

With the way Nate rearranges his hold on him, Adam feels how it loosens just enough. He takes this opportunity to hook his foot around his ankle and tug hard enough that makes Nate stumble back, eyes widening at the sudden movement.

Adam pushes his arms away and strikes a fist into his shoulder that Nate grits his teeth against. Adam does it another time to his chest, but Nate catches the hand in his and twists it behind his back that Adam sneers at the pain jolting up his arm.

“That was a dirty trick,” Nate murmurs into his ear, his cheek brushing against the side of his head. Adam forces himself to not lean into the touch more. “Especially for you. Life on the road really did make you a hooligan.”

Adam juts back his elbow, and Nate lets out a grunt at the hit and lets go of his arm that Adam twists around to swipe a leg at him.

Nate loses his balance and falls to the ground, but he scrambles quickly away when Adam pounces on him. He reaches forward to take hold of his leg and yanks Nate to him, but has arms locked around his neck in response that causes Adam to choke out in surprise. It’s all a scramble of hands and legs as they roll across the floor to try and get the upper hand on each other.

Adam ends up on top, hands pushing Nate’s wrists to the floor as he straddles him, both of them gasping for air as they try to catch their breath. His hair falls forward, dangling between them like rope.

Nate slumps back, laughing shortly. “Fine. You win.”

Adam chuckles. “I guess I did.”

“It’s because you cheated, that’s why,” Nate grins, looking at him from under his lashes. “Adam du Mortain, using the power of the helpless? Who knew.”

It makes his breath catch, as Adam realises what their position entails, but he doesn’t move. He can’t, he realises. Not when he has Nate looking at him like that again, as if he’s thinking of ravishing him on the spot without a drop of remorse, or how someone could walk in on them but he wouldn’t care.

It makes him swallow thickly, his hands flexing on top of those wrists, but Adam is far too distracted by the way the sun catches the brighter hues of his eyes, almost turning them into hazel. Nate takes this as a chance to free one hand and reaches up to push back his hair behind his ear, fingers lingering on the cut of his cheek.

“My sweet brute,” Nate murmurs, and the air sucks out of Adam’s lungs as if the winds have stolen it from him. It’s doing something retched to him, bleeding him dry as Nate touches the beard on his chin. “Where have you gone now?”

Adam swallows dryly, and he doesn’t realise his head is lowered to the shoulder beneath him until he can smell him. He can smell _Nate_. It shouldn’t make him feel an ache so strong in the cages of his ribs, but it does, it _does_. 

A tentative hand slides to the angle of his jaw, and Adam follows the touch mindlessly, allowing it to gently move him around when Nate rises from his place on the ground. Adam finds himself angling sideways, feels the way Nate is so near to him that he can feel his breath on his face.

“I’ve missed you,” Nate admits softly, and a shudder rattles Adam so violently at the confession. “I keep waiting for you to come back.”

That snaps him back to where he is; he finds himself angling towards him, the hand on his cheek still caressing the lines that’s taken residence between his brows. Adam hisses in a breath through his teeth, rolling away when he feels as if his skin is about to burst.

He stands to his feet, looking down at where Nate remains where he is, disappointment a great thing to witness on his face. Adam has to look away, his own chest constricting painfully as he pushes his hair away from his face. “I’m here because Mason found me almost getting killed by a troll.”

There’s a long pause that settles suffocatingly between them. And then, Nate lets out a heavy sigh, pushing himself up so that he sits on the floor, legs folded under him. “Of course.”

“And because of your,” Adam hesitates, looking back at him again. “Intuition.”

“I got tired of wanting to wait for you, so I willed you to come back.” Nate smiles wryly. “And it worked.”

“Yes,” Adam breathes. He clears his throat. “I should clean myself up before joining Agent Chana.”

The clock on the wall says he has another three hours until he sees Chana, but he has to leave that room right then. He can’t sit there any longer after what he allows himself to happen.

If Nate gives any indication he knows, he doesn’t call him out for it. Instead, he nods. “I’ll see you later, then.”

It takes a while for Adam to move, but when he does, he goes and plucks his shirt from the bench and slips it on. Nate sits there still, quietly watching him dress.

Adam walks across the room, feeling those eyes on him. And then, he slips out, doors closing behind him.

* * *

When Adam stands across the desk a little over eighteen-hundred hours, arms crossed against his chest, he already has a decision made.

“I’m staying.”

Chana graces him a smile at the decision. “Very well. There are regulations that have been modified and added ever since you were absent, so we’ll go through them tomorrow. There are also agents that would be more than glad to have you as their teacher to look over their training, and we’ll discuss how accommodating your timetable would be for you in regards with those agents.”

Adam nods. “Fine.”

Chana already has paperwork spread on her desk. “You’ll have to sign a few places. Here and here.”

“I thought my data is still available,” Adam questions, scanning through them. “What’s this?”

“We’ve changed some things. We need you to look over this before you sign anything.” She stands up, sliding a pen at his way. “I’ll give you some time to go through it.”

She walks out of the room. When Adam lifts his head, he sees Nate near the window, leaning against the wall beside it. “Still in the records, huh?”

Nate arches an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t lie. You still are, but this is just an update.”

“Of course,” Adam says dryly, sitting on the chair to start reading through the fine text.

He hears footsteps walking towards him, and then it stops, the heat of his body reaching out to him tantalisingly. A hand brushes behind his ear, and Adam locks his jaw together when it follows the length of his hair before it disappears.

“Good to have you back, Commanding Agent du Mortain.” Nate says softly.

When Adam tilts his head to meet his gaze, Nate doesn’t look away.

Adam offers a smirk. “It’s good to be back.”

**Author's Note:**

> When will I make them kiss, you wonder? Even I don’t know.


End file.
